


You're A Sky Full Of Stars

by isthisenoughorcanwegohigher



Category: The Maze Runner Series - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Summer Camp
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-28
Updated: 2020-01-28
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:14:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22444654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/isthisenoughorcanwegohigher/pseuds/isthisenoughorcanwegohigher
Summary: The best part of summer vacation is the great big metaphorical reset button. It's easier for some people to start over every year than others, but if there's one thing the gang that works at the Scorch can agree on, it's that nothing tops a fresh start like a summer spent under the stars. Even when you're feeling stuck, the fresh mountain air revitalizes you and reminds you of all that you keep going back for.
Relationships: Minho/Newt (Maze Runner), Minho/Thomas (Maze Runner), Newt/Thomas (Maze Runner)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 7





	You're A Sky Full Of Stars

In the middle of the clearing, surrounded by pine trees and slowly growing aspens, there is a gazebo. It’s a little weathered. The pine boards that were once fresh and springy are now scuffed and stained and warping slightly around the edges.

There are no written rules about the gazebo, but everyone who comes to the Scorch--for the whole summer or a week or anything in between--knows what it’s for.

It’s the place at camp where you can go to be undisturbed, to enjoy a moment of quiet solitude in the chaotic energy of summer and heat and rain and meteor showers and bonfires that leave your sweaters smelling like smoke for months afterwards. It’s the place where no one really talks, but the whispers are louder than the shouts that come from the athletic field.

Time has passed since it was built, by steady hands and shaky hands alike. The pain that went into building the structure has stopped being passed down from cabin to cabin, though the rumors remain.

Someone died at camp. Violently.

They were murdered.

No, say the counselors, shaking their heads, though they can hardly remember the truth. It’s been years since they heard it, and they were just children then, no older than the newest campers at the age of seven, who run around the open fields like they own the place, without knowledge or care of anything else. But they heard the stories once, too.

No, they say, no one was murdered. But someone died.

Here at camp.

No, the visitors from summers past say. No one died at camp, but they warn the children who beg for s’mores at every meal that they might die at camp if they don’t eat their vegetables. It’s not their job to care for the campers any more, but old habits die hard, and it’s easy to fall back into old patterns, no matter how much you wished for the chance to start over with the change in the seasons. Visiting the place you once called home means you revert back.

Someone died.

Yes.

In the middle of the clearing, surrounded by pine trees and slowly growing aspens, there is a weathered gazebo. It has survived many storms, many years. It’s the place where people at the Scorch go for a moment alone, no matter how impossible it is to really be alone there. And though time has changed the story, time can never change what was once written in stone.

At the base of the stairs that lead up into the gazebo, there is a rock. It is fairly large in size, and though like the gazebo it has been aged by the weather each year, there is still the faint scrawl of what someone once carved into the surface, two little words that once shook the little world that existed in the bubble of this summer camp.

For Newt.


End file.
